


What the Commander Wants

by Thevoidbetweenus



Series: The Lindins [1]
Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: (i.e. intrusive thoughts), Avoidance of feelings, Drabble, Jormag's whispers, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Pre-Relationship, ambiguous ending, death ideation, lws5, lws5 potential spoilers, mostly a reflective piece, set after the first chapter of lws5, the commander is depressed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26852212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thevoidbetweenus/pseuds/Thevoidbetweenus
Summary: Ian stares up at the night sky, snow swirling around him and dampening his hair.  He shouldn’t even be out here, really - it’s far too late, and far too cold outside, but he needed some fresh air and space from...Well, space from everyone, really.He can’t shake the question from his head.What does he want?  He’s not really sure.  To save Tyria, he supposes.  That’s what the point of all this is, yes?  Stopping the elder dragons to save the world, or something like that.
Relationships: Braham Eirsson/Male Player Character, Braham Eirsson/Player Character, Trahearne/Male Player Character (Guild Wars) (past)
Series: The Lindins [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1971826
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	What the Commander Wants

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is the first time I've written Guild Wars 2 fanfiction. I was playing through lws4 again today and felt inspired. I hope you enjoy!!

_ “What does the commander really want?” _

Ian stares up at the night sky, snow swirling around him and dampening his hair. He shouldn’t even be out here, really - it’s far too late, and far too cold outside, but he needed some fresh air and space from...

Well, space from everyone, really.

He can’t shake the question from his head.

What does he want? He’s not really sure. To save Tyria, he supposes. That’s what the point of all this is, yes? Stopping the elder dragons to save the world, or something like that.

Not for the first time, he wishes Trahearne were here. Trahearne would know what to do, what the point of all this was, why they should all keep fighting. He always was the more inspiring one.

The thought makes Ian’s heart squeeze, and he lays back into the snow, half-wishing it would just envelop him.

He doesn’t know why he’s still fighting. Perhaps Jormag is trying to help them. The thought plagues him.

_ If Jormag were really trying to help, it wouldn’t have started a Charr civil war,”  _ he can hear Rytlock say, but he rolls his eyes. “Jormag didn’t start that,” he points out. “She simply provided Bangar with the power to start it.”

Here he is, defending an elder dragon to the imaginary voices in his head. Maybe Gorrik is right, and he’s well and truly cracked. 

Ian snorts to himself, spreading his heavy limbs out in the snow. It’s hardly even cold out, really. He’s not ready to return to Jora’s Keep yet, and see the gloomy faces of his companions who still somehow retain more hope than he has. 

Not that he can tell anyone that. 

He’s the Commander, after all. Infallible.

Hero of Tyria even when fighting his own brother in a far out land. Striking Morgan down had been the most difficult thing he had faced, and still, always more is needed.

_ I’m here to listen, Commander. They ask too much of you, I know. _

Ian closes his eyes for a moment, lower lip quivering - whether from the cold or impending tears, he doesn’t know anymore. “Perhaps Morgan was right to follow him,” he says to the empty air, not sure who he’s talking to at this point. “Balthazar was the only one who didn’t abandon us. Now we’re all alone. What am I supposed to do?”

He swallows.  _ “I’m  _ all alone,” he whispers, staring up at the stars once more. 

He wishes Morgan were here, even if the Morgan he buried wasn’t the same little brother who clung to his leg and cried until Ian bought him some candies on the way home. Even Morg, Herald of Balthazar, would have been able to help him out of this mess. A mess it is - who the hell is he to try to stop a Charr civil war, he’s just some commoner from Divinity’s Reach. He’s nothing special, speciality has simply been thrust upon him.

_ It’s okay to rest, Ian. You’re so tired. _

And it’s true - he  _ is  _ tired. Tired of losing the people he cares about. Tired of fighting a never ending onslaught of Risen and Mordrem and Branded and Awakened and Icebrood-

_ You don’t have to fight anymore. _

Ian holds a shaky hand up in front of his face, breath coming out in small puffs of fog. He deserves to get some sleep, doesn’t he? He needs a break so desperately - just a small respite from having the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

_ Sleep. _

He closes his eyes, settling in deeper to the snow and allowing his hand to fall. It’s quite warm really-

“IAN?!”

_ They want to disturb your rest, dearheart. It’s okay - don’t let them take away your break. You’ll be fine right here. _

Dearheart? Ian is reminded again of Trahearne, of long-past-but-never-forgotten evenings spent in the solace of the Grove, lingering touches as faded pages were turned- 

“Ian!” There’s that voice again, insistent, and if Ian were more lucid perhaps he could place it. He grimaces, covering his ears and curling deeper into the snowbank. He wants to return to that place, comfortable and safe alongside Trahearne, but his efforts are for naught. He is scooped out of the snow and into strong arms, and whoever has found him is holding him close to their chest. He tries to push his way out of their grip, but it proves to be far too much effort - he’d much rather sink into unconsciousness, maybe he’s dreaming already anyway.

* * *

“Ian?”

Said Commander groans, burying his face into his pillow. He’s not ready to wake up yet, no thank you. Everything is sore, and he doesn’t even want to think about that horrible nightmare.

“Commander, please, we’re all getting pretty worried here-”

“Why?” Ian complains, reluctantly lifting his head and opening his eyes. He’s met with the concerned face of Braham (not who he expected, but hey, he’s not complaining), and he sighs. “I’m sorry,” he says. “That was...rude. I’m fine, just a bit tired. And...cold.”

“Well, that’s not a shock,” Braham says, averting his eyes. It’s still a bit difficult, being one-on-one with the Commander, despite the understandings they’ve reached. “I found you nearly frozen to death out there - you were so frostbitten I was worried we wouldn’t be able to warm you up.”

“Ah…” Ian sits up, rubbing his back. “It uh...wasn’t a dream then…” his cheeks flush with embarrassment. 

“Nope, not a dream.”

“Sorry for the trouble, then,” the Commander says, wringing his hands and staring at his blanket.

“It wasn’t really trouble, Ian,” the Norn replies, shrugging. The shift to his name makes the other man smile despite himself.

“I’m pretty sure it was,” he counters, “since I apparently worried you all half to death.” His tone is light. He wants to avoid the real issue at hand.

Braham snorts, but quickly sobers. “...Jormag was talking to you, wasn’t she?” he asks, and at last they lock eyes. Ian hesitates, not wanting to admit it at first, but his shoulders slump in a boneless sigh. He supposes it’s best to be honest.

“Yes.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I...don’t know,” Ian admits, chewing his lip. It’s dawning on him, how close he was to death - if Braham hadn’t found him…

Perhaps what is scarier is that he finds it difficult to care.

“I understand the feeling,” Braham says, shifting in the chair beside the bed and laying a hand over one of Ian’s still-cold ones, offering a small smile. Ian’s ears flush pink and he looks away for a moment, bashful.

These feelings had been simmering for awhile, the Commander has just been avoidant. It’s been easier that way, if not less satisfying. Opening his heart again to love, but also loss...is a challenge. As he meets Braham’s eyes once more, warm and shining with affection, he realizes it is at last a challenge he’s willing to face.

Ian isn’t quite ready to talk - or to fully embrace his feelings - but it’s a start.


End file.
